


Along Came A Spider

by mydeira, Sadbhyl



Series: Responsible Adults (aka, The Menageaverse) [55]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-08 14:39:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadbhyl/pseuds/Sadbhyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A man from the Summers women's past returns.  But it's not Riley, and it's not easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Uninvited Guest

**Author's Note:**

> Written by Mydeira, beta'd by Sadbhyl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Ethan so effectively got Riley to clear out of Sunnydale in All Along The Watchtower, we needed someone else to come to town and stir things up. And since the ‘verse has a different focus, we found the perfect person to fit the bill.

Dawn’s laughter rang out from the living room.

Joyce looked at Rupert.

He rolled his eyes, “I told you it was a bad idea to leave her in there alone with him.”

“Oh, how bad can it be?” she grinned, placing the iced tea on a tray.

“Ethan has a treasure trove of embarrassing stories to tell concerning our youth.”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, Rupert. I’m sure there are plenty of other things they could be talking about,” she patted his arm reassuringly.

“Care to make a wager?” he asked in the promising tones of Ripper, as he moved behind her.

“No, you’re too sure of yourself,” she shook her head.

“What happened to your sense of daring, Joyce?” he pressed close, whispering in her ear.

She felt her body respond to his touch. Reluctantly she moved away, picking up the tray and walking past him, “Like I said, you’re too sure of yourself. I like a bit more uncertainty in my bets.”

“You mean you want a guarantee that you are going to win.”

She shrugged, “How else am I ever going to see you in those leather pants again?”

Which Dawn overheard and collapsed into a fit of giggles. Ethan sat easily on the couch, the picture of innocence.

Rupert caught Joyce’s eye, “What did I tell you?”

Joyce shook her head and placed the tray on the coffee table, joining Ethan on the couch. “So, what sordid tales have you been telling my impressionable young daughter?”

“Mo-om!” Dawn whined.

“Sex, drugs, rock and roll . . .no more harm than an episode of Behind the Music,” he replied.

Rupert groaned.

“So is it true, Giles?” Dawn turned to him excitedly. “Did you really used to sing in a band?”

“He did more than sing, my dear girl,” Ethan interjected. “Ripper was the band.”

Joyce could see that Rupert was not only shocked, but pleased with the rare praise from Ethan. “We were quite good, if I do say so myself,” he relaxed. “Played some of the best spots in London.”

“And you really wore leather?”

“As was the fashion of the day.”

“But Giles, you, in leather?” Dawn struggled not to laugh. “I mean, you’re you!”

Ethan chuckled. “You really do have them fooled, don’t you, old man?”

“You should hear him sing sometime, Dawn, he’s very good,” Joyce joined the conversation.

“Of course you think he’s good, you’re his girlfriend,” she said derisively.

“So my opinion doesn’t count then?”

“Well, you can’t be entirely objective about it. Though Willow and Tara said he was good too,” she considered.

“And here I thought they were horrified this entire time,” Rupert mused to himself.

“No, that was just Xander,” Dawn corrected. “Anya wants you to sing at the wedding but Xander says it’ll be over his dead body. Personally, I think he’s just jealous. But I don’t know why he’d be jealous of you.”

Joyce had a pretty good idea, though she doubted Xander knew about the kiss Anya and Rupert had shared in the Magic Box. She still felt twinges of jealousy herself when she thought about that.

Seeming to read her thoughts, Ethan leaned close, “Rest assured, my dear, he only has eyes for you.”

“And you,” she added seductively.

“Ahem,” Dawn cleared her throat. “Impressionable young child in the room, remember?”

“Only when it’s convenient for you,” Joyce said lightly.

“Duh!”

There was a knock at the door and Dawn bounced to her feet.

“There’s Janice,” she said heading into the foyer. Then looking back at them, “And with me out of the way, you guys can do whatever you want.”

“Why do I not feel like the mother suddenly?” Joyce asked no one in particular, watching her daughter leave.

“Since we do have her permission,” Ethan’s hand began to wander.

She slapped it away, barely aware of the door opening, “She’s still in the house!”

Rupert had risen from his seat and was heading over when Dawn’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Daddy?”

Joyce felt her blood run cold.

No. Not now, when things were finally getting better between her and Rupert and Ethan. Just . . . No.

“Dad, what are you doing here?” Dawn’s quiet question shattered any hopes that she could be mistaken.

“Can’t stop by and visit my favorite girl?” the voice was light and youthful.

God that voice! Underneath the hatred and bad feelings that it evoked, there was still a tiny part of her that was happy to hear the sound. After everything, such a response should be dead. The heartache and betrayal and having to see her girls disappointed year after year when he failed to keep his promises should have killed off any spark of feeling other than loathing or anger.

And why did it still fucking hurt after all these years?

Slowly, Joyce got to her feet. She couldn’t just sit here and wish it all away. This wasn’t a dream; it was all too painfully real.

It felt like she was moving in slow motion, every step taking an eternity until she reached the foyer.

Some sort of conversation seemed to have taken place between father and daughter while Joyce had been struggling with her thoughts. Dawn stood tall, arms crossed, and rage palpable as she blocked Hank’s entrance into the house.

“You can’t be here,” she stated flatly.

“Dawn! That is no way to talk to your father,” Joyce barked, more due to nerves than out of any anger over her daughter’s behavior.

They both looked at her.

And for the first time in . . . what, four years? . . . Joyce was face to face with her ex-husband.

“Joyce,” Hank nodded in her direction. He was a little greyer but otherwise in as good as shape as she had ever seen him.

“Hank,” she acknowledged coolly. “Why are you here?”

“I had some business in the area and thought I’d stop by, see how my girls were,” he replied with practiced ease.

She fought back the urge to scream at him that they weren’t his girls. Hadn’t been his girls for sometime now. But instead, “Would you like to come in?”

“Thank you,” he said, stepping inside.

Dawn gave her a wide-eyed look, and Joyce shook her head, throwing a warning glance before turning and heading into the living room.

To see Rupert and Ethan standing in the middle of the room, waiting.

“Oh, you have company,” Hank said apologetically.

She was not at all prepared for this. Not that she seemed to have any choice. And it looked like she wasn’t going to get any support from Dawn as she faded sulkily into the background.

Taking a deep breath, “Hank, I’d like you to meet Rupert Giles and Ethan Rayne. Rupert, Ethan . . . Hank Summers.”

“Rupert Giles? Weren’t you Buffy’s high school librarian?” It sounded like a casual question, but Joyce detected something more underneath.

Joyce saw Rupert tense. Not that he didn’t already seem on edge. The strangest thing was that Ethan seemed to be the one holding him in check.

And Ethan was the one to take the initiative. Stepping forward, he held out his hand, “Hank, I have been wondering when we would meet.”

Hank took Ethan’s hand readily. “And how is it that you know my . . . Joyce?”

“Through Rupert,” Ethan returned, easily, as if Hank were anyone else. “He introduced us while he and I were out for drinks one night, and frankly, I’ve been captivated ever since.”

He finished the last part looking directly at her, eyes dark and showing the full weight of his words.

Captivated? In spite of the tumult of emotions she was feeling at the moment, Joyce still felt her heart rate pick up ever so slightly. It was amazing what the man could do just but looking at her.

Rupert finally spoke, almost conversational and normal except for every line of tension she could read on him. “Joyce, forgive me, but I have to run. There’s something important at the store that I have to attend to. I’m sorry,” he said quietly as he brushed past her.

She wanted to follow, more than anything. But she didn’t have the luxury of leaving.

“I should be leaving as well,” Ethan touched her shoulder gently.

“Oh, alright,” she said softly, hoping she didn’t look as lost as she felt. But she had a feeling Rupert needed him more at this moment than she did. And it might be easier to deal with Hank without them there.

When Ethan had left as well, Hank chuckled. “They really are a stuck up people, aren’t they?”

Turning on him, “Excuse me?”

“The British. Not friendly, except maybe that Ethan. He at least had manners.”

Joyce was absolutely flabbergasted. On second thought, she had to be dreaming.

“But then you always have kept interesting company, haven’t you, Joyce?”

“I . . .”

“Mom,” Dawn cut in, causing Joyce to jump. In the tension she’d forgotten her daughter was still there. “Janice’s mom just pulled up.”

“Be careful,” she said automatically, dismissing her daughter.

“Maybe I should—”

“Tell Janice I said hello,” she cut Dawn off.

“Ok,” and Dawn left, not saying good-bye to her father.

Good, one on one. No reason to be polite.

“What in the hell do you think you are doing, Hank?” she seethed, rage overriding the numbness at last.

“I told you, I was in the area.”

“Hank, I haven’t seen you in over four years. Haven’t heard from you since God knows when. What are you up to?”

She was expecting a sharp come back, hoping for one, but Hank seemed to grow subdued, the confidence seemed to fade away finally. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, Joyce, about things. Taking stock of my life.”

“And what? You’re turning over a new leaf?” she said bitterly.

“No, I thought it was time you and I talked.”

He said it with such sincerity she didn’t know how to respond.  



	2. The Awful Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank is the catalyst for some long overdue conversation.

Ripper was having a very difficult time understanding why Giles had walked out of the Summers’ home and not instead torn the errant Hank Summers limb from limb. He wanted blood and he wanted it now.

Struggling with that desire made it very difficult for Giles to unlock his car.

“Fuck!” he kicked the car. Why in the hell did he have so many bloody keys?

A firm hand wrapped around his just as he was about to hurl the keys on their merry way.

“Give us the keys, Ripper,” Ethan ordered smoothly.

He gave them over without a thought and was slightly mollified at the fact that the door was unlocked by the time he got to the passenger’s side. He sat silently fuming as Ethan started the car and pulled away from1630 Revello Drive.

They had been driving for several minutes when Giles finally spoke. “I’m going to kill the bastard.”

Ethan smirked. “No, you want to kill the bastard, but won’t. Too many moral consequences.”

Ripper snorted. “Christ, you have gone soft if you’re lecturing me on morality.”

“It was inevitable.”

“Certainly, and pigs will now fly,” Giles said before withdrawing inside.

“Loathe as I am to admit it, you did the right thing back there. Getting out before you did something stupid.”

“I can’t believe that you of all people, Ethan, were civil to the man,” he raged. “Not after seeing what he’s done to them. To Joyce. And he’d show up now, when she’s still so vulnerable after . . . damn it! I shouldn’t have left her alone with him!”

“Best for all involved that you did,” Ethan said sagely.

“Why didn’t you stay? You seemed perfectly capable.”

“And who would see after you, then? Because I am fairly certain Joyce would be less than pleased to find out you’d gotten yourself into an accident. I also believe she can handle herself and would highly resent our getting involved.”

“Dawn suckered you into watching Oprah with her, didn’t she? I never thought I’d see the day when you became such a pansy ass,” Ripper taunted.

The brakes slammed, throwing him forward. Ethan shifted roughly into park, pulled the keys, and got out.

“Coward,” Ripper muttered, getting out to follow, realizing they had arrived at Ethan’s apartment.

He found Ethan by his liquor cabinet, throwing back a glass of whiskey. The next thing he knew, the glass was being flung at him and shattering less than a foot away from his head.

“Shut the fucking door now, Ripper,” Ethan said coldly. 

Automatically, Ripper kicked it closed and advanced. Now this was the reaction he had been expecting, though not directed at him.

“I would have gladly murdered the bastard where he stood,” his friend murmured as he drew closer. “You were bloody useless, so I had to pick up the slack.”

“So I should be grateful, then?”

“For starters.”

They squared off, apart but close enough to touch if they wanted. And touch they did.

Ethan’s fist came flying and connected forcefully with Giles’ jaw. 

That left only one response. Unfortunately, Ethan caught Ripper’s right hook in mid air.

“That the best you can do, Rupert? Rage used to make you quicker!” Ethan’s nails bit into the flesh on the back of his hand.

He threw another punch and was stopped, and another, and another. It didn’t matter what he tried, Ethan always seemed was step ahead. Not a single punch was landing.

“What the fuck is going on here?” he screamed.

Ethan was enigmatic as he replied with a swift hit to Giles’ gut, forcing him to double over and nearly fall to the floor.

Winded, “Fucking hell!”

And with that he lunged, tackling Ethan to the ground.

The impact reverberated through them both.

“Christ, we’re getting too old for this, Ripper,” Ethan complained, winded. 

“Admitting defeat already, Ethan?” Ripper sneered down at the man.

“Hardly,” Ethan laughed, taking advantage of the moment to roll them so he was now on top and effectively pinning Giles to the floor.

Struggle as he might, Giles could not throw the other man off. Ripper was unhappy at being put at a disadvantage.

“Ethan,” he growled in warning.

“I think you’re the one who’s getting soft, mate,” Ethan informed him, leaning close. “Time was I couldn’t take you down so easily. Of course, time was you didn’t hold back.”

Giles wanted to protest that he wasn’t holding back. That, well, anything . . . But Ethan was right, he was holding back. Because for the first time in a very long time he felt on the verge of losing control. He’d let Ripper out to play a few times over the past few years, but underneath it all Giles was still in control. He had a feeling if he gave in this time, there might not be any going back. And part of him knew it would be a relief to finally put away the responsible, controlled persona he’d adopted decades ago.

“I’ll kill him and I won’t be sorry,” he said, going limp under Ethan. “And it’ll destroy me.”

“What have I been telling you all these years, Rupert?” Ethan sighed, standing and offering a hand to Giles.

Taking it, Giles got to his feet. “That one day I’d snap if I kept holding back.”

“Exactly,” his friend replied with little joy. “And now you’ve found a reason to do just that that your insufferable conscience can’t argue against.”

“We can’t lose her, Ethan, not after everything.”

“What makes you think we’re going to lose her?” Ethan looked at him, surprised. “You can’t tell me you think that prat will be able to take her away from us, not when a brain tumor, your crazy colleague, and our own stupidity haven’t been able to.”

Giles was silent.

“That’s what you think, isn’t it?” his eyes were wide with realization. “After everything?”

Still unwilling to reply, Giles went and sat on the couch.

“Rupert?”

He didn’t look up, just focused in on the pattern of Ethan’s Oriental rug, possibly looking for answers. At the moment Giles wanted nothing more than for the whole thing to go away. Everything had been getting back to normal. It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon for the three of them once Dawn left with Janice. Quiet only figuratively, of course. And he had even been enjoying himself with Dawn there, in spite of Ethan telling the girl god knows what about his youth. It had been simple and comfortable and had felt very, very right.

“Rupert?” Ethan said more insistently but with a hint of concern as he crouched in front of Giles.

“She introduced us like we were no more than acquaintances,” Giles mumbled.

“I knew it!” Ethan exclaimed. “That’s what’s really bothering you about this whole thing. Not the fact that Hank showed up, but that she didn’t tell him who we were.”

Giles looked away.

Firm fingers gripped his chin and forced him to look at Ethan. “It’s true, isn’t it? You think she’s ashamed of this?” He paused, hand falling away. “More importantly, are you?”

“Now where in the hell would you get an idea like that?” Giles asked heatedly.

“I don’t know, you tell me,”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“That deep down you’ve always been a bit of a prude and a slave to convention, until it pisses you off, that is,” Ethan added. “And this relationship between the three of us is about as far from conventional as you can get.”

“I’m not ashamed of it.”

“Aren’t you? Don’t you occasionally wish that it was just you and her?”

“Maybe in the beginning I did,” he admitted honestly. “But I haven’t for a long time now.”

“Bullshit.”

“Now who’s the insecure one?”

“Ripper…”

“You don’t think it’s possible that I want you every bit as much as I want her? That it’s possible that I care greatly for you as well?”

“Save it, Rupert. Don’t start lying to me now,” Ethan’s lips were pressed into a fine line.

They were quite a pair today, weren’t they?

“Christ, Ethan, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since the day I met you. Though for a number of years I would have been very glad if I had,” he held Ethan’s gaze. “I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a time I hated you. Because I did. You brought out the worst in me. And quite possibly some of the best.”

“You’ve made your point, Ripper, you can stop any time,” Ethan said, his voice strained.

“No, I think I’ve stopped myself far too many times already,” Giles said truthfully. “Maybe that’s why we’re in the situation we are in currently.”

“I said stop,” there was now a note of pleading in Ethan’s voice. “I don’t need to hear it and you don’t need to say it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s unnecessary and I don’t want to hear it,” he pushed himself up from the ground and started to walk away.

Giles grabbed his wrist, holding him in place. “You are not walking away from this.”

“I very much am. As soon as you let me go,” Ethan tried to break the grip, but Giles held fast.

With words getting him nowhere, Giles pulled Ethan down to land heavily on top of him. Before Ethan could manage more that a grunt of protest, Giles was kissing him. Ethan tried to get away but Giles held him fast. Persistence finally paid off as Ethan relaxed, letting him inside.

He kept the kiss languid and slow, subverting Ethan’s attempts to draw him into something more heated. Ten minutes ago Giles wouldn’t have said no to a quick hard fuck, releasing his anger as passion. But the tone had changed. They were both hurting and unsure of where they stood, not just with Joyce, but, after all this time, with each other. Things had changed considerably for them.

Giles felt Ethan grip his shirt, pulling him closer, and Ethan braced himself with his knees on either side of Giles.

Craving skin, Giles hands skittered across the satiny smoothness of the deep green shirt Ethan wore. He could feel the heat through the thin layers. Guided by instinct alone, he found the buttons and began to undo them one at a time. Soon the shirt fell open and Giles’s hands fanned out, threading through the fine spread of dark hair peppering Ethan’s chest. He was softer than he had been in youth, no longer all lean angles. And the power flitting beneath the surface, an irrepressible energy. The sensations could very easily overwhelm him.

His right hand grazed lower, fingers dipping below the waistband of Ethan’s trousers before coming back up.

Ethan pulled back with a quiet groan.

But Giles craved contact. Leaning forward, he began to trail light kisses down Ethan’s neck and to his chest, his journey aided as Ethan rose to accommodate him.

He tasted of earth and sweat and something indescribably Ethan. It was a wild, heady flavor that went straight to Giles’ groin.

Gripping Ethan’s hips tightly, Giles shifted him over to the side so he could press Ethan down onto the couch and continue his descent. Ever lower he moved, fingers moving to Ethan’s pants and undoing the fastenings as he kept his slow, steady progress.

“Christ, Ripper,” Ethan moaned as Giles freed his hard, heavy cock. Always so ready.

He blew lightly over the hot skin and Ethan shivered.

Just as Giles was about to take Ethan into his mouth, the other man held his head, stopping him.

Curious, Giles lifted his eyes and saw Ethan staring down at him with deep sadness.

“Please stop, Rupert,” there was a note of reluctance in the request.

Surely he couldn’t have heard right.

“I—I can’t do this,” Ethan said forcefully, though his body was saying the complete opposite. 

“What’s going on, Ethan?” Giles didn’t move, though his friend’s grip had loosened. It was such an odd request, quite out of character.

“I told you to stop lying to me,” he said, moving up and away, reaching down to do up his pants as he did so, sending a clear message to Giles and leaving him no choice but to sit up again.

“How can I lie to you, I haven’t said anything for the past fifteen minutes!”

“You’re being too gentle,” Ethan murmured, turning away.

Giles tried to wrap his head around what Ethan was saying.

“I told you, I don’t need to know. Especially since it’s all a lie anyway.”

Still lost, Giles asked in exasperation, “Just what in the hell am I doing that is suddenly so awful to you?”

“You’re fooling yourself, mate. Give it some time; you’ll realize I’m right.”

His first instinct was to throttle Ethan for being a complete idiot, but he had a feeling that’s exactly what Ethan wanted. Violence in any form to distract from . . .

“So it’s fine if I fuck you or beat you, but god forbid I should want to make love to you?” Giles said angrily, twisting Ethan to face him.

“See, this is the truth, between you and I,” Ethan replied placidly. “Anger and heat. Undeniable attraction, yes. But don’t bring any more to it than that.” 

“You don’t want me to care for you.”

“Never have, Ripper.”

Now Giles knew that was a lie.

“I think you need to leave,” his friend said quietly.

Giles didn’t move.

“It’s not a suggestion.”

It took every bit of control that Giles possessed not to strike out and beat some sense into the man, let alone get up and storm out. But it would be playing into Ethan’s hand perfectly. And if he were to get through to the man, he needed to break from the old patterns. Even if the old ways were the best way of getting the other man’s attention.

“You’re such a fucking coward, Ethan,” Giles said flatly.

The only reply was silence.

“I’m not leaving, Ethan. Nor am I going to hit you, tempting as it is,” he stated. “So quit acting like the spoilt child you are and talk to me.”

“What’s there to say, Rupert? I think I’ve made things clear.”

“No, the only thing you’ve made clear is that you’re as insufferable as ever when it comes to getting you to admit what’s really bothering you.” Then, “Weren’t you yelling at me earlier for being insecure?”

“I’m not insecure, I’m a realist.”

Giles couldn’t not laugh at that. “You, my friend, are anything but a realist.”

He saw Ethan smile faintly.

“How about you stop lying to me?” Giles said pointedly. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

Ethan shrugged. “I don’t settle, Rupert. I don’t put down roots. But what else do you call this?” he motioned around the apartment. “The closest I ever came was in London.”

“But your flat there was hardly this nice,” Giles observed lightly. [action/tone]

“Style comes with age, I suppose. And money.”

“Not to mention a girlfriend who is also an art dealer.” 

“Does help a bit,” he nodded. “I never intended to come back, you know. So soon after. Figured I’d drop in again in another year, see how things were, make your life exciting for a day or so, and then be on my merry way.”

“But you were back, what, three weeks later?” Giles fished.

“Couldn’t stay away. Tried, mind you,” Ethan sighed. “But Joyce bloody wouldn’t leave me alone. Neither would you, but that’s nothing new. The lady, however, was harder to ignore. Still can’t figure out how you were able to stay away from her after the band candy for more than a year.”

“I’m the master of repression, remember?”

“That you are.”

“So, you weren’t trying to piss me off that night in the gallery?”

“Of course I was; it just wasn’t my sole motivation for being there.”

There was a pause and then, “I think I fell in love with her the night she made me use her. I was enchanted from the beginning, but that night . . .” he trailed off. “She stopped me, Ripper. You know how I am when I get like that, even you have trouble taking me down. But Joyce . . . I went too far and gods did she let me know it.” 

“Joyce Summers is a force unto herself,” Giles agreed.

“And I was in love with the idea of you before we met,” Ethan didn’t look away.

In a way, Giles wasn’t surprised. He’d suspected as much when they’d hooked up after one of his gigs. Maybe it was the way Ethan looked at him or how he knew exactly what buttons to push to really bring Ripper out. 

“That what you wanted to hear?” Ethan queried.

Giles didn’t say anything at first, mulling over everything Ethan had told him. “But you don’t want to believe any of those feelings are returned, is that it?”

“I’m not a fool, Rupert.”

“And if they are?”

“They’re not.”

“Ethan—”

“Rupert, please…”

“This stops now, Ethan,” he grabbed Ethan’s chin and wouldn’t let him look away or escape. “Every single time either Joyce or I show you any genuine affection you practically bolt. Why is that?”

Ethan tried to get away.

“Ethan?”

“I don’t know, alright?”

“It’s not alright.”

He rolled his eyes. “Now who’s been watching too much bloody Oprah?”

God, but the man was exasperating.

Enough was enough. “You know what? I’m done. You want me gone, I’m gone.”

Giles pushed off the couch and stormed to the door. Why he even bothered was beyond him.

“Because this is how it will always end,” came the quiet reply from the couch.

Halfway to the door, he stopped and turned.

“There’s no other way, Ripper,” Ethan said. “Doesn’t matter what’s between us. In the end, you’ll always leave.”

He was half tempted to say, “Because you give me no other choice, you prat!” But the real meaning behind the words sunk in.

“You’ve never forgiven me for that, have you?” he realized.

Ethan rose from the couch and joined him in the middle.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Rupert. Inevitable, natural consequence. You couldn’t have done any differently.”

“But you wish I had.”

“Of course I bloody wish you had!” Ethan exclaimed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “But I knew it would happen. Especially after Randall and fucking Eyghon,” his jaw worked. “Knew eventually you’d go back. That your pragmatism and sense of duty would win out in the end.”

“And now?” Giles pressed.

“Now? I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop, mate.”

“Then why do you stick around, if you’re so certain of how it will end?”

“You know me, Rupert, never could do what was in my best interest. Glutton for punishment, I guess you could say.”

“Jesus, Ethan, what am I going to do with you?” he asked at a complete loss. 

“Beat me, shag me or leave.”

“If there was any hope of it knocking any sense into you, I’d opt for beating. But since that has yet to work,” Giles grabbed Ethan by the shirtfront and threw him against the wall. An instant later, he had Ethan pressed tight against it. “You will not tell me to stop this time.”

He didn’t give Ethan a chance to respond as he devoured the other man’s mouth forcefully. Ethan’s hands moved up under his sweater, lifting, until Giles pulled away long enough for it to be removed and tossed to the side. As they came back together, Giles groaned as their bare skin came into contact. Few sensations were as arousing as the friction of naked flesh on naked flesh. 

Hot tongue slickly sliding, deftly evading his advances while enticing him on. He felt Ethan tug at his belt, working to undo his trousers. Oh no, he was not taking control of this tonight. Breaking the kiss, Giles worked his way along Ethan’s jaw.

Reaching his ear, “You will remove your hands at once, my friend.” 

“Or what?” Ethan laughed, hands not staying a moment.

“Or you’ll be very sorry,” he nipped at the lobe, his own hands going between them and pulling Ethan’s hands away and up above his head. “Those will remain there the entire time. Do I make myself clear?”

“And my motivation for good behavior?”

Ripper grinned darkly as he undid Ethan’s pants for the second time that evening. “I can either make this very good, or I can drive you to the brink before walking out that door.”

“Doesn’t leave one with much of a choice, does it?” Ethan tested him as his pants slid to the floor.

“Are you questioning me?”

“Just pointing out that if you’re giving a bloke a choice, at least make it seem like a choice.”

“Looks like the door it is.”

“Now hold up, I was just having a bit of fun, Ripper,” Ethan said smoothly. “What would you think of me if I agreed so easily?”

Giles sighed inwardly. Easy would have been a nice change of pace, but…

Ripper spoke sternly, “They do not move. And you do not speak. Understood?”

Ethan nodded, looking anything but acquiescent as he relaxed easily against the wall. It was the best he was going to get.

He trailed his hands lightly along Ethan’s sides, stepping back to briefly admire the view before dropping to his knees, the loud crack of the joints only a minor annoyance. His eyes flicked up briefly to make sure Ethan was as he’d left him. Satisfied, Giles ran his right hand slowly over Ethan’s shaft, base to tip. He followed with his tongue. And when he reached the head again, he took Ethan in his mouth, wrapping his lips tightly around before descending once more. Giles kept the pressure constant but the pace languid. There would be no rushing. He was going to get through to Ethan, and if words were getting him nowhere . . .

Ethan’s hips bucked off the wall. Giles sat back with a smirk.

“What did I say, Ethan?”

“You said I couldn’t speak or move my hands. You never said anything about—”

Giles looked at him.

“Right, shutting up.” 

He resumed his task, picking up the pace slightly, since this wasn’t about torture. His hand came into play once again, coming up to gently massage Ethan’s sac, then seeking behind, looking for—

“Fuck!” Ethan gasped, knees giving slightly as Giles found the spot.

Meanwhile he kept working Ethan’s cock, tongue tracing the familiar roadmap of veins as he drew Ethan ever closer to the edge. Down and around and up again and around and down. Over and over until finally he felt Ethan’s balls tighten. Shortly after that he came hard, Giles keeping up a soothing motion as he finished Ethan off.

Giles then stood, watching as Ethan came back to himself, leaning heavily against the wall.

“Don’t stop,” Ethan said hoarsely, eyes dancing

“Insatiable as always.”

He realized Ethan was staring at him. “What?”

“You’re still mostly dressed.”

“And what do you plan to do about it?”

“What do I plan? Can’t move my hands, remember?” he smirked. 

“I recall something about speaking as well, but you don’t seem to have kept to that one,” Ripper indicated.

“When have you ever known me to keep my mouth shut?”

“There are ways to occupy it other than with talking, you know,” Giles replied suggestively.

“Are there really?” Ethan’s arms dropped and he pushed off the wall, closing the distance between them. Lips mere inches from Giles’ own, “Any suggestions, Rupert?” 

“I may have one or two,” he leaned in, brushing Ethan’s mouth lightly.

Ethan deepened the contact, hand coming up to cup behind Giles’ head as his tongue delved inside with a tenderness that took Giles by surprise in the context of their light banter. It wasn’t hurried, but in spite of the relaxed nature of the kiss, Giles could feel considerable uncertainty behind it.

Finally, Ethan broke the kiss. “What is your pleasure?” he asked huskily, but there was more behind the words than just sensuality.

“Let me make love to you. Please,” Giles cupped his cheek gently.

Ethan’s eyes flashed briefly with something akin to fear. “Rupert …”

“I know I’ve hurt you, more deeply than I ever knew. But it’s time we moved past it. For both of our sakes,” he said, voice thick with emotion. 

“Did you ever think it might be too late?”

“I think the fact that neither of us has killed the other yet is a good sign that there’s still hope.”

He could feel Ethan’s chest rise and fall against his own.

“Alright,” his lover conceded at last.

Giles kissed him briefly but tenderly. “Thank you.”

Ethan nodded with a heavy air of reluctance and quietly headed off to the bedroom.

He followed soon after and found Ethan standing by the foot of the bed, head slightly bowed. Giles walked up behind and wrapped his arms around the other man, pulling him back against his chest. Leaning forward, kissed the side of Ethan’s neck lightly.

“I will stop now. If you ask me to.”

“No,” Ethan said quietly. “You’re right, Rupert. It’s time we got over the past.”

Giles turned him slowly and kissed him, holding back at first, not wanting to scare Ethan off. A part of him wanted to laugh at the though of Ethan scared of anything. The man had always defied fear. And yet something as seemingly simple as true intimacy shook him to his very core.

Ethan’s hands were at his waist and finally Giles’ pants fell to the floor. He felt Ethan smirk.

“What?”

Ethan shook his head. “These boxer-briefs are one habit that I will break you of.” 

“I really don’t see what is so offending about them,” Giles protested. 

“Well, for one,” Ethan pushed them down and off, then rose, their naked bodies finally completely in contact for the first time all evening, “they are always in the way.”

“So I should stop wearing them because they are an inconvenience to you?” Giles laughed, running his hands across Ethan’s back and down over the curve of his ass.

“Yes.”

“Even more reason for me to continue wearing them,” he said determinedly. 

And then there was no more talk as he tasted along the sensitive skin of Ethan’s neck, beneath his jaw and over to nip lightly at his ear, walking them back toward the bed. Soon he was pressing Ethan back onto the bed, easing their descent as best he could without breaking contact.

Giles could spend hours just touching Ethan. There was something so absolutely seductive in every inch of the man’s skin. It was made to be touched and worshiped and marked . . . This body had once been his without restraint, for pleasure and for pain. God, how he’d loved cutting fine lines, biting, bruising and watching it heal only to do it all over again.

“Why did you let me?” he wondered out loud, tracing one of any number of scars he’d given Ethan.

“I was yours, Rupert. Completely,” Ethan replied, the fingers of his left hand teasing through Giles’ hair. “Never stopped, I guess.”

“And Joyce?” he asked, as their hips rocked against each other, friction slowly building.

“If it weren’t for her, I think one of us would have killed the other by now,” his friend admitted. “And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. Or you.”

“To me, you mean?”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “That goes without saying, my friend. But I meant for.”

Giles reached into the nightstand, finding what he wanted on the first try. Ethan helped him remove the cap and they worked together getting each other ready.

Ethan’s right leg rose, hooking around Giles’ side, opening him up. Giles hesitated, cock prodding at Ethan’s entrance.

“Christ, Rupert, you don’t need to ask,” Ethan said, pulling him down for a kiss as Giles pushed inside, tight muscles resisting only briefly before giving way.

And then Giles was inside, heat enveloping him completely as his slid all the way in.

Ethan groaned. “Fuck, you’ve always felt so good.”

Giles could only nod in agreement, trying to focus under the overwhelming sensations.

But soon enough he was able to move, gliding between Ethan’s gripping muscles. Ethan met each thrust, arching into him.

“Faster,” he breathed.

Giles complied, the friction growing with each stroke. But he had enough presence of mind left to reach between them and begin to pump Ethan in time to the rhythm.

“I’m so sorry,” Giles said again and again with each thrust.

And Ethan held him as he came, arching backward with the force of his climax. Liquid heat spread across his chest as Ethan joined him.

They lay there entwined for long minutes after, breathing synchronized. Giles only pulled away when the cold chill of their cooling fluids seeped through his foggy senses.

Ethan joined him in the bathroom as they cleaned up, staring at him in the mirror.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, Rupert,” he said finally. “You did what you had to do. I get that.”

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t a complete bastard.”

“Well, no. But so was I.”

Giles couldn’t argue with that. So he yawned instead.

“And the thrill is so easily gone,” Ethan laughed. Patting him on the shoulder. “Come on, Ripper, I’ve got a perfectly good bed in there that doesn’t get slept in often enough.”

As he lay there wrapped in Ethan’s arms, Giles couldn’t help but think that maybe things between the three of them weren’t doomed to fall apart after all.


	3. Embrace Of The Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joyce goes out to dinner with Hank and realizes a few things.

This was all wrong. She shouldn’t be here. Not with him. What had she been thinking when she agreed to dinner with him? More importantly, what had she been thinking inviting Hank inside in the first place? He had no place in her life or that of her daughters. Not anymore. And until today, he had made it very clear that he didn’t want to be a part of their lives.

“Joyce? Thai good for you?” Hank asked, putting the car into park.

“Thai’s fine.” But it really wasn’t. This was the restaurant Ethan liked to bring her to. It always set off a fierce night of unrestrained sex. Nothing close to what had happened after their first visit here, but it was always a catalyst of sorts, feeding into their more primal needs. The need to dominate and be dominated, mixing pain with pleasure. A part of her craved it.

Hank had always been gentle or detached, mechanical at the end. She had made the suggestion of, well, spicing things up a bit, and he’d given her a look like her head was on backward. For a number of years she had thought she might not be normal with the things she wanted to try. Her therapist had helped in some respects, but it wasn’t until she got involved with Rupert and Ethan that she could accept her desires without feeling guilty about them.

“Yes, we’ll both have the number five. Thank you,” Hank smiled at the waitress as he handed her back the menu.

“I can order for myself,” she snapped.

He looked apologetic. “You just seemed really distracted, I didn’t want to interrupt. I can call her back if you’d like.”

“No, five will work,” she sighed. “I’m sorry. I just—I’m not quite sure how to deal with this.”

“It’s my fault. I should have called first, but there was such a short window of time, I thought I’d take my chances,” he offered.

But why now? she wanted to ask. He hadn’t been in touch with the girls for well over a year now, and before then it was spotty at best.

Instead Joyce opted to try casual conversation. “How are things going?”

Hank shrugged. “Business is slow. But with the economy like it is, that’s not a big surprise. But it has given me a lot of time to think and reevaluate things.”

Because running off with your secretaries to exotic locales is always great for business, she thought.

“I’m getting married,” he said without further preamble.

Joyce nearly choked on her wine. “M-married?”

“Surprised me, too,” he laughed.

“And you’re here for, what, my blessing?” It was difficult to keep her tone neutral, or polite.

“I didn’t think it would be fair if you found out any other way.”

Actually, she would have been fine with that. Or never knowing, that would have been great. Especially if it meant he never would have shown up on her doorstep. Bringing with him everything that she thought had been dealt with and buried in the past, where it belonged. It shouldn’t still hurt. She had moved on. He had really moved on, many times over. But…

“I’m happy for you, Hank,” she said finally, sounding almost sincere to her own ears.

“Really?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Because of the way I treated you. I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to see me miserable to the end of my days,” he replied.

And you’d be right, a tiny voice said.

“Life’s too short,” she said simply.

After that, the rest of the evening went smoothly. By degrees Joyce started to relax and chat with Hank like he were an old friend. Telling him about the gallery and bringing him up-to-date on Buffy and Dawn, careful to leave out the more exciting aspects of the last few years. Hank was far too practical to take anything concerning vampires or gods seriously. And she also left out her current involvement with not one, but two men. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed or ashamed, she just didn’t quite know how to broach the subject. Nor was it any of his business.

Of course everything was going too well. She should have seen disaster coming. It started just after dessert was set down. Hank grew very quiet after having been so engaging all evening.

“Did I say something?” she immediately went on the defensive.

“No,” he said, a sad look crossing his face. “I . . . There’s something . . .This—”

“You already told me you’re getting married, Hank. What could be harder?”

First rule of Hellmouth living, never tempt fate by asking for something worse.

“I’d like Dawn to come live with me, in L.A.”

She gaped at him. But she hadn’t misheard. He was still talking.

“Sunnydale is a great town, don’t get me wrong,” he said carefully. “I just think it might be limiting. Take Buffy—”

“What about Buffy?” Joyce asked coldly.

“I think she might have done better had she remained in the city.”

“Done better how, Hank?”

“It doesn’t look like any of her wildness and lack of focus has been curbed,” he said, his voice taking on a subtle edge. “Dropped out of college. No job. I know it’s not completely your fault,” he assured her.

“You’re telling me I’m a bad parent? You? Who has no idea of what it’s like to be a parent?” her voice was heavy with accusation.

“Joyce!”

“Let’s be honest here. When was the last time you talked to either of them?” Joyce leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table, voice low. “And going back a few years to that trouble with Buffy . . . you were too busy flying off with your mistresses to do anything about reprimanding her.”

“I did what I could at the time.”

“So what, now you want to make up for it with Dawn?” she spat. “Dawn is doing very well without your help.”

“Is she?” he sneered. “Then her stealing is no longer a problem? And she’s no longer cutting class?”

This was news to her. “Dawn is doing well,” she repeated, trying to cover her surprise. “What interests me, Hank, is with being out of touch as long as you have, how you know about any of this?”

“I’ve kept in touch.”

“Not with them.”

“No,” he admitted.

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed. But that thought was ludicrous. No way did he . . . “What did you do, hire a private investigator?”

He didn’t say anything.

“Jesus Christ, Hank! Tell me this is a joke.”

“I needed an unbiased source of information.”

“So what else did this source tell you? Aside from my daughters apparently being beyond my control,” she stated with a hint of cold curiosity in her voice. Not that she needed him to tell her. Joyce knew with absolute certainty where this was leading. Well not so much where as to whom.

“This really isn’t the place . . .”

“Hank, you made this the place. Tell me what else.”

“Your lifestyle, Joyce. It’s really not appropriate for raising an impressionable young girl.”

“My lifestyle? I have a good job that lets us have a fairly nice house and plenty of food.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” he said pointedly.

“I know it isn’t. I just want to hear you say it,” she stated evenly.

“Really, Joyce, two men? What kind of example is that setting?”

“Would you like me to start counting off how many women you were with when we were married?” she asked snidely.

“Never at the same time.”

“I really don’t see how my sex life is any concern of yours. What I do behind closed doors is between me and them and no one else.”

“It’s not normal, Joyce!” he slammed his fist on the table, earning them several glares from around the room.

“There’s no such thing as normal, Hank!” she said with exasperation. “And what I have with them is far better than anything I had with you.”

“This isn’t you, Joyce,” he shook his head. “I don’t know what happened to you. But I will not let your mid-life crisis ruin Dawn’s life.”

“Mid-life crisis? You think that’s what this is?” she laughed at the absurdity of the words coming from him of all people.

“What else could it be?”

“How about one of the most exciting, caring relationships I have ever had. Yes, I mean ever,” she emphasized. “Rupert and Ethan have never judged me or made me ashamed of myself. I have discovered things about myself that I never would have known without them. And I’m not talking just in the bedroom.” Joyce leaned across the table, voice low but heavy with meaning, “They helped me realized that while I am a middle aged divorced mother of two, I am still attractive and desirable. That I am worthy of love and affection.”

“It’s not something that lasts, Joyce. The lust does fade eventually. You know that.”

“It’s not lust! You do not go through the things we have gone through together just because there’s some amazing sex involved.”

“You’re saying that you love them?” Hank said as if the words tasted awful.

“I—” That gave her pause. It wasn’t something she had ever really considered. Ok, hadn’t wanted to consider. Because admitting something like that was, well terrifying. She cared for them both deeply. And when they had been at odds the last few months after Buffy’s death and then resurrection . . . “I know I don’t like to think of my life without them in it.”

“It’s wrong,” he nearly shouted.

“Who are you to judge me?” she stood up, having had enough.

“I won’t let you destroy the lives of both of our daughters,” he said heatedly, rising as well.

Joyce felt her blood run cold. “If you dare try and take Dawn away from me, you will be very sorry.”

And with nothing more to say, she turned and walked calmly away. Once the restaurant was well out of sight, she started running for all she was worth, getting away as fast as she possibly could.  



	4. The Shape Of Things To Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where a lot of things get said without really being said. And where Ethan and Rupert learn about what Hank is up to.

Ethan lay awake in the dark, listening to Rupert’s steady breathing beside him. What in the hell had happened tonight?

He’d expected pain, counted on it actually. But the kind of pain that left bruises and made you bleed, not the stinging shock of being forced to admit things you never even wanted to admit to yourself. He felt extremely exposed and vulnerable, two feelings that never sat well with him. Things were different; rationally he knew that, knew that Ripper wouldn’t take his confession and use it against him. The fear was still there, however, that he wasn’t good enough, had done too much, didn’t deserve Rupert, especially didn’t deserve Joyce. And yet he had them both.

Coming to the conclusion that he’d be getting no sleep any time soon, Ethan got out of bed and headed for the kitchen, grabbing his robe and carefully shutting the door on his way out. Why he bothered to have any consideration for Rupert’s sleep at the moment was beyond him. But it would be almost petty to wake him, and Ripper really was quite a sight to behold when he was asleep.

Ethan was halfway into the kitchen when he realized there was someone sitting on his living room couch. The familiar silhouette assuaged any thoughts that his abilities at detection were slipping.

“Joyce?” he asked quietly, walking over to her.

No response.

“Joyce?” A bit louder and a lot more worried.

She looked at him finally, the streetlight catching in the tear tracks on her cheeks. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” Her voice was low and flat.

He shook his head as he crouched before her. Reaching out to brush away the moisture, “What did he do to you?”

Her lower lip trembled as she tried to keep herself under control. “H-he didn’t do anything. Yet.”

“Joyce,” he said soothingly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“I can’t let him do it,” she stated, not even looking at him. “I should have seen this coming!”

She stood up, pushing him away in the process, and began pacing.

“There’s no other way,” she muttered. “Maybe if I . . . No. I won’t. But—I can’t lose her.”

Ethan stopped her in mid-stride, holding her firmly in place. “What’s he done, Joyce? I can’t help if you won’t tell me.”

At that she crumbled, falling heavily into his arms as she started to sob. He held her there, in the middle of the room, whispering incoherencies as she cried. Still holding her the entire time, he carefully guided her to the couch, cradling her against his chest.

“Shh, my darling girl, it’ll be alright,” he rocked her, vowing silently to kill Hank Summers the next time they met, on principle alone.

“It’ll n-never be r-right,” she hiccoughed.

After long minutes she quieted enough to speak again.

“Dawn,” she said, sitting up. “Hank w-wants Dawn.”

“Wants Dawn? For custody? That’s ridiculous!”

She nodded.

“But she’s not even bloody his!” he exclaimed.

“Ethan.”

“Joyce, it’s absolutely crazy. He hasn’t got a leg to stand on.”

“I didn’t think he did either,” she said with resignation. “But he’s had me investigated.”

“And what would that prove except that you are a brilliant woman and mother?”

“Dawn has been stealing and cutting classes,” she said. “And I had no idea. I should have seen it, but I didn’t.”

“Well you’ve had a few things on your mind,” he pointed out.

“But I should know, Ethan. I’ve been too wrapped up in my own life these last few years that anything is possible.”

“Too wrapped up . . . what are you saying?” The cold feeling in the pit of his stomach told him that he knew exactly what she was saying.

“He knows about the three of us.”

“The point being?”

“It’s not normal and he’ll use that fact.”

“The bastard hasn’t bothered to call or write in how long? And you think he really has a chance of taking Dawn?” he frowned. “You’re not thinking this through, Joyce. You’re upset, understandably so, but he’s hardly proven himself fit for being a parent.”

“You don’t know him, Ethan. He knows the system. He also has a charisma that manages to win him what talent and know-how won’t. Hank Summers never loses.”

Ethan had a feeling that Hank was very close to winning and he hadn’t yet done a single thing. “He lost you, didn’t he?” Ethan said pointedly, forcing Joyce to look at him.

“Ethan . . .”

“I’m not trying to flatter you. I’m pointing out the facts,” he said soberly. “He’s taken you by surprise and played into a lot of your fears. But no court in their right mind would give him Dawn.”

Joyce shook him off. “It’s over.”

“What?”

“It’s the last thing I want, but there’s no other choice.”

“Joyce, listen to yourself.” Christ, this wasn’t happening now!

“It’ll kill me, Ethan, but I can’t lose Dawn.”

“Apparently it won’t if you’re giving up so easily.”

“Don’t. Please,” she begged. “Maybe eventually, after this clears up—”

“I won’t let you throw this away!” he ground out.

“Won’t let me? It’s not your decision to make.”

“Nor is it completely yours!”

“So that’s all it takes then?” Rupert asked coldly from the hallway.

They both turned to look at him. Half-hidden in the shadows cast by the streetlight, he stood there studying them. A part of Ethan was amused by the fact that Rupert had taken the time to put on his pants. Ever practical.

“These last two years mean nothing to you then?” he was in motion, advancing on Joyce like a predator.

“I never said that!” she proclaimed defensively.

“No?” Ripper sneered. “You’re quite quick to toss us over when the going gets really rough for it to mean anything to you.”

“How dare you!” she struck out at him, but Ripper caught her hand in mid-flight.

“No, Joyce, how dare you!” he pulled her dangerously close, teeth bared. “You’re willing to give into him without a fight? After everything he’s done to you? He broke you once, Joyce, are you going to let him do it again?”

“Let me go, Rupert,” she hissed.

“I will not let go of you until you calm down and listen to reason.”

“I’ve made up my mind. There’s no discussion.” There was such an immovable finality to her voice that Ethan shivered.

Ripper’s eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. Ethan saw the muscles in Rupert’s arms tense an instant before they pushed Joyce away to land heavily on the couch. “You will sit. You will listen. There will be discussion,” his words fell like lead.

Eyes flashing, Joyce pushed herself up but did not rise from the couch. “What are you going to do, Ripper, beat me until I change my mind?”

And in that moment, Ethan felt very much the outsider once again. He had no part in this power play, but there was no way he was leaving; he had every right to be there. Didn’t the outcome affect him as well?

“What, nothing to say, Ethan?” Joyce turned on him and effectively drew him right back into the fray.

“No, my dear, I think this is between you and Rupert,” he replied quietly, staring her down. Daring her to contradict him. Needing her to do it.

Ripper spared him a scathing glance. “When did you get so fucking weak? You’d just let her walk out of here, wouldn’t you?”

Ethan took a deep breath, feeling his anger start to overcome the numbness that had set in. But he tried to keep it reigned in. One of them needed to keep their heads here. “The cubs are in danger, Ripper dear, and the mother bear will do whatever it takes to keep them safe.”

“She’s being a fool.”

“You have children, then you can judge me,” Joyce said icily, her words cutting them both.

Ripper’s laugh was bitter. “Naturally, since neither are mine, I couldn’t possibly give a damn, could I?”

“It’s different.”

“You would kill for them before you’d see any harm come to them, wouldn’t you? Or trade places if you could?” his voice was very low. “I would have given everything to have died in Buffy’s place that day.”

Joyce’s only reply was silence, but while her fury seemed diminished, it still simmered under the surface.

“Give it up, mate,” Ethan put a firm hand on Rupert’s shoulder. “Deep down she still blames you for putting her eldest in danger. Just be glad you never actually used the girl to save your own skin.”

Joyce was looking at him now.

“That’s right, my dear, Eyghon’s never been a secret between us.”

Joyce got up and went to the window, her back to them as she watched the night. Finally, she spoke. “I know you’d do anything in your power to see them safe, Rupert. Even you would, Ethan, though I know there’s no love lost between you and Buffy.”

She didn’t speak for a moment, then, “I care greatly for you both and know you would do anything for me.”

Not good. He good feel Rupert tense beneath his hand.

Turning to look at them once more, “That is why I’m asking you now to back off. This is my problem. And I will handle it as I see fit.”

There it was, inevitability come at last.

“No,” was the simple response from Rupert. “We are not backing off. It may be easier to think you’re in this alone, but you’re not. And you haven’t been for quite a long time.”

“Rupert, stop. Please.”

“No,” he said again, walking toward her. “You no longer have to fight these battles alone.”

She stepped away as he reached for her. “This wasn’t meant to last,” she looked first at Rupert, then at Ethan.

“No, it wasn’t,” Ethan agreed, joining them. “But it has. And I think that is what scares you most. Too much risk in it. Hank’s ploy is an excuse. The fact is, he reminds you of why this scares you.”

She tried to back away further but was stopped by the window, and between that and him and Rupert, there was nowhere for her to go. And she was going to hear them out.

Ethan realized he still had the floor. “It’s easier to think of this as some casual fling that, while fun, doesn’t touch you. Am I right? You loved once, Joyce, and got burned. It doesn’t mean it will happen again.”

“He’s going to take her away,” she said weakly.

“We won’t let him,” Rupert spoke up.

“We’re not going to let you do this alone, Joyce,” Ethan said.

“I can’t ask that of you,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to,” he reached out slowly, tentatively caressing her cheek. “We’re here for you, Joyce. There’s no getting rid of us.”

“This isn’t lust, Joyce,” Rupert added. “Lust doesn’t last.”

She sighed. Looking very lost and defeated. “What are we going to do?” she asked them, moving to sit back on the couch.

Ethan could think of a few things they could do, but doubted either of his lovers would agree. Never underestimate a good banishing spell.

Ever practical, Rupert asked cautiously, “Do you have the papers?”

“Papers? What papers?” Joyce looked at him blankly.

“Court order, subpoena . . . some legal document backing up his demand?”

“I never let him get to that point,” her brow furrowed. “Why?”

Ethan finally caught on. “Because the illustrious Mr. Summers might possibly be preying upon your insecurities, hoping that it will be enough.”

“Not that I put it past him, but like I said, Hank does know the system. He’ll be able to back it up.”

“But no judge in his right mind—”

“No court,” she sighed. “I can’t go through all of that again.”

“And if it comes to that point?”

“It won’t.”

“Why is he suddenly so hell bent on getting custody of Dawn?” Rupert asked, taking a seat next to Joyce on the couch.

“I supposed it’s because he’s getting married.”

“Married?” he repeated, seeking clarification.

She shrugged. “Had trouble believing it myself, but anything’s possible I suppose.”

“As well you should,” Rupert was frowning in concentration. “You said he’s had an investigator following you, yes?”

Joyce nodded.

“And you’ve been helping Anya with the wedding, haven’t you?”

“I really wouldn’t call it helping so much as being a reluctant yes-woman,” she smiled slightly. “But what does that have to do with anything.”

“Do you think Hank might possibly believe you’re the one getting married?” Ethan interjected.

“After accusing me of being next door to a nymphomaniac?” She blinked when he didn’t respond. “You’re serious?”

“You have to admit his timing is a bit suspicious when you consider that. Next month, isn’t it?” Rupert chimed in.

“But he knows I’m with the two of you, together. Who would I be marrying?”

“We’ve been together two years,” Ethan said.

“And Dawn’s problems likely originated last year when she found out about being the Key,” Rupert added.

“So?” she asked, confusion evident.

“So,” Ethan replied, “these things that make you an ‘unfit’ mother have been going on for awhile now. What made him wait so long if he was so concerned?”

“There’s no point in speculating,” Rupert got up from the couch. “Where’s he staying?”

“The motor lodge by the highway.”

“Good. Get in touch with him and have him come to the house tomorrow.” Then, “And make sure both Buffy and Dawn are home. If he’s doing something like this, he should be the one to tell them in person.”

“I won’t put them through that,” Joyce refused, anger kindling in her voice again.

“It might be your only chance to call his bluff,” he said simply.

“You think he’s bluffing?” Ethan asked curiously.

“He might very well be.”

“And if he’s not?” Joyce queried.

“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it,” Rupert stated, sounding very confident that it was an “if” and not “when” scenario they were facing. “Call him, Joyce.”

Her silence was her consent as she rose and head for the landline.

Feeling safe that she was out of earshot, Ethan turned to his old friend, “You seriously believe he’s bluffing.”

“I’d almost stake my life on it,” he confirmed. His eyes flashed dangerously for a second. “And if not, there are other ways to solve this problem without going to the courts.”

The words sent a chill down Ethan’s spine. If he were an outsider, he might almost feel sorry for Hank Summers. Fortunately, he wasn’t an outsider, and several methods for making Hank Summers very sorry he ever came to town began to flicker in Ethan’s across Ethan’s mind. Most of them lingering and painful.  



	5. Pincer Movement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big confrontation with Hank.

“Mom, he can’t really do that, can he?”

The look in her youngest daughter’s eyes was heartbreaking. For a moment she wished she hadn’t insisted on doing this alone. She really could use Rupert and Ethan’s support at the moment. But telling her daughters was something she had to do on her own.

“He has the right to try,” Joyce replied.

“B-but I’m not really his! It’s just an illusion,” she protested.

“By the same token, I’m not really your mother,” Joyce commented, but there was no anger or reprisal in her voice.

Dawn’s mouth dropped open in horror. “Oh, Mom, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“I know you didn’t, Sweetie,” she touched her daughter’s face lovingly.

“At least he cares about you,” was the quiet comment from the corner of the room.

Joyce looked at Buffy, arms crossed and face blank.

“Buffy, your father does ca—”

“Save it, Mom,” she sighed. “It doesn’t matter anyway. This isn’t about me.”

“You’re wrong about that. It’s as much about you as it is about Dawn,” Joyce corrected. “Where he thinks I failed you.”

“And you believe that, don’t you? That you’ve failed me?” Buffy asked, losing some of her reserve.

“Some days,” she admitted. “But then I see who you’ve become and I’m very proud of you.”

“I’m not,” her eldest said sadly. “Principal Snyder wasn’t so full of hot air after all. College is a bust. UC Sunnydale won’t even give me a second look. And the job thing, a big zero there. Slaying and nine to five don’t go hand in hand. And we won’t even start on my relationships. The only thing I’m good at is killing and beating things.”

“That’s not true, Buffy!”

“Isn’t it?” she looked skeptical. “That’s all I’ve done since I got back. Beat and kill and beat and kill. And get outwitted by a group of nerds. Can’t forget that,” she concluded with a note of sarcasm.

Joyce got up and walked over to her oldest. Putting her hands on the girl’s shoulders, she made sure Buffy was looking her before she spoke. “That’s not all you are, Buffy. And you need to get over it. I know it’s been hard for you. Being back after—But you are here, after everything. You’ve taken on demons and a god and who knows what else and you’re still standing. You have people who care greatly for you and who you’ve helped become better people. That says a lot about you, Buffy. If you were just a killer, I doubt any of us would still be here.”

“I’m so tired, Mom,” she whispered, eyes watery. “It never ends.”

“Life isn’t easy for any of us. Regardless of whether or not we have apocalypses or bills to face,” Joyce smiled slightly. “There are things that make it worth it. You just need to remember.”

Buffy nodded. Finally, after a few deep breaths, she asked, “You’re not going to let him take her away, are you?”

“Never,” Joyce said, meaning it.

She felt Dawn come up beside her. “So what are we going to do?”

Joyce reached out and put an arm around the girl. “Whatever it takes.”

“For what it’s worth,” Buffy ventured, “I wouldn’t object if Ethan turned him into a toad.”

Joyce didn’t hold back her laugh. “I should tell you that it’s wrong to wish such things on your father.”

“But you won’t.”

She shook her head. “I’m not going to lose either one of you.”

 

 

It was like waiting for a storm to break. Hank was due at any time, but the minutes stretched out endlessly.

Buffy sat watchfully on the stairs while Rupert paced and Ethan fidgeted by the window. Dawn stared off into space, as though waiting for the jury to come in. Joyce could do no more than sit and watch the others. She was afraid to move or speak for fear that she might fall apart, her nerves stretched to the breaking point. Regardless of the outcome, she needed it to be over.

“He’s here,” Ethan said gravely.

A knock sounded at the door. Buffy was down the stairs and opening the door before Joyce even thought about moving.

“Buffy?” There was surprise in Hank’s voice.

“Mom’s in the living room,” she replied.

Hank followed as Buffy came in and sat next to Dawn. He gave a start upon seeing that Rupert and Ethan were present.

“What’s going on, Joyce?” he asked warily. “I thought you wanted to meet to discuss things.”

“I did,” she said calmly.

“Since when does that require an audience?” Hank’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, focusing in on Rupert and Ethan, who had come to stand beside her as she sat tall and at ease, though she felt anything but.

She should feel bad about outnumbering him so, but she didn’t. A part of her hoped that coming face to face with everyone his move impacted might get him to back down. It was a faint hope.

With a note of disgust, he accused, “You don’t even try to hide it from the girls do you?”

“Hide what, Hank?” She wanted him to say the words, for her daughters to hear him say the words.

“The thing with them,” he waved in Ethan and Rupert’s direction.

“Relationship?” she prompted.

“Parading it around like it’s—Have you no decency?”

Joyce could feel the tension emanating from Rupert, but he kept still per her request. Though she doubted it would be for much longer if Hank continued on as he was.

“They love each other, what’s so wrong with that?” Dawn inquired, taking them all by surprise.

“Dawn, honey, maybe you shouldn’t be here for this,” Hank spoke to her.

“Well, this involves me, doesn’t it? You want to take me away from Mom. I think I should know why,” she replied, voice never wavering. Joyce was taken aback by how grown up she was all of a sudden. It wasn’t something she had realized until that moment.

Hank hadn’t expected this.

“LA has better opportunities. And you’ve always liked the city.” His voice became honeyed and smooth as he held his hands out as if physically offering these things to Dawn.

“But all my friends are here. A-and I have a job!” the last was said with enthusiasm.

“Job?” Joyce looked at her curiously.

“Yeah, at the Magic Box after school. I thought it was time I started making my own money,” she said like it was no big deal. “Can’t go around stealing things I want.”

Rupert coughed and out of the corner of her eye Joyce caught the hints of a smile. “I think it’s been a good experience for both of us. And her help has been invaluable.”

“So see, I can’t leave,” Dawn said eagerly.

“There are plenty of jobs in LA. And they offer great discounts,” Hank added enticingly. “Plus, LA isn’t that far. It’ll be easy to keep in touch with your friends.”

“Then why haven’t you kept in better touch?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Things have been crazy. When you get older, life just gets away from you,” Hank said as if he were passing on some great pearl of wisdom.

“But this isn’t really about how great LA would be for me, is it?” Dawn said knowingly.

“No,” he agreed, “there are other reasons.”

“Like the fact that Mom has two boyfriends instead of one? That’s why you want to take me away, isn’t it?” she pressed.

“Which secretary are you on now, Dad?” Buffy spoke up. “Felicia was after my sophomore year. Then Amanda and Karen.”

“I think it was Angela the summer Mom went to London,” Dawn added.

“That makes, what, four in almost as many years. But Mom’s been with Giles and Ethan for two years now. Yet that’s wrong and what you’ve done is right?” Buffy queried, disbelief heavy in her tone. “Giles has been here for me since we moved to Sunnydale and would do anything for Mom. And Ethan . . .he’s risked his life for both Mom and Dawn. I think that right there says a lot. When the going’s gotten tough, they’ve stuck around. While Mom’s relationship with them may be unconventional, I think she’s lucky to have them in her life. As is Dawn. What’s really in LA that she doesn’t have here?”

“A stable home environment,” he said unrelentingly.

“Because you’re getting married?” Buffy laughed. “That doesn’t make stable. Stable is knowing that when things come down people are going to be there for you, not on a business trip in Europe.”

The room was silent.

“You’ve really done a number on them, Joyce,” Hank shook his head sadly.

That was all it took. In two steps, Rupert was on him, right fist flying out to connect with Hank’s jaw and send him sprawling to the floor. Rupert crouched down and hoisted Hank up by his shirt front.

“You will not walk into this house and insult the mother of your children in front of them,” Ripper hissed. “These women have been through hell in the past year, hell that you can’t even begin to imagine. And yet you dare walk in here and pass judgment when you haven’t bothered to contact any of them for more than a year?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Not even when Joyce was sick last year , when she was dying, could you bother to at least even pick up the phone,” Ripper shook him. “I’d love to hear your excuse for that.”

Hank’s bravado faltered momentarily but was back just as quickly. “I have my reasons,” he repeated.

Ripper struck him again and managed to get in two more hard hits before Ethan pulled him off. Joyce was half tempted to keep Ethan from interceding, but Rupert wouldn’t stop otherwise. Instead she hung back until the situation seemed under control.

“You need to go, Hank,” Joyce said, standing.

“This isn’t over,” he said, struggling to his feet.

“Yes, it is,” Ethan interjected, straining to hold Rupert back. “If you know what’s good for you, Hank Summers, you will walk out that door now and forget this foolishness.”

“Are you threatening me?” Hank sneered.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. You have hurt the Summers women for the final time,” Ethan warned. “I can assure you Rupert’s fists are the least of your worries if you continue pursuing this.”

Hank looked at her for intercession.

“Dawn stays in Sunnydale, Hank. This is her home,” she answered. “You may call and write like you’ve always done. And she can visit you if she wants to. But you will not come here again or even think of seeking custody.”

“Or you’ll sic your lovers on me?”

“The men I love are not men you want to cross, Hank,” she warned, her voice loud and clear. “For the girls’ sake and your own, leave now.”

He looked from her to his daughters.

“Daddy, please go,” Dawn said, her voice thick. “Please.”

Frowning, he nodded, giving in at last, and without another word walked to the door and out of 1630 Revello for the final time.

Buffy sat down wearily. She glanced at Joyce, “What happened to him, Mom?”

“He used to be a good man,” was the only thing Joyce could think of to say.

“Good riddance,” Rupert muttered. Then, looking a bit ashamed, “I’m sorry,” he apologized to Buffy and Dawn.

“No, Giles, you’re right,” Buffy said with a faint smile. Then, to her sister, “I do feel bad for you, Dawnie.”

“Why? You guys are my family, not him,” she turned to Joyce. “I know, the memories and biologically he is my dad, but . . . to me he isn’t. He wasn’t here for the things that counted. And the people that were are the ones that matter to me. But if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to go to my room for awhile.”

“Sure, Sweetie,” Joyce gave her a tight hug. “I love you and you are very much my daughter.”

“I love you, too, Mom,” she kissed her on the cheek and then headed for the stairs. Pausing halfway up, “I’ll see you at the Magic Box tomorrow, Giles.”

And then she disappeared.

“I should, um, probably get ready to go patrolling,” Buffy said distractedly, turning to follow where her sister had gone. Stopping, she looked at Joyce, and then Rupert and Ethan. “It’s still weird, but I get it now.”

Finally, the three of them were left alone huddled together near the couch.

“I’m glad you hit him, Rupert,” Joyce said, breaking the silence. Then with a slight grin, “It’s something I’ve wanted to do for years, but I doubt it would have been half as effective.”

Rupert still looked ashamed. “It still wasn’t right to do that in front of the girls.”

“Maybe not,” she caressed his cheek. “But he still deserved it.”

Then she turned to Ethan, “I’m proud of you.”

“Me? All I did was keep Ripper in check,” he shrugged it off.

“And yourself,” she grabbed his hand, running her thumb over his knuckles. “Do you think I can’t feel it when you hold back?”

Ethan looked away, but she tugged on his hand and he looked back.

“I meant what I said,” she murmured, grabbing Rupert’s hand as well. “You are the men I love. And I would be incredibly lost without either one of you.”

“Joyce, you don’t need to,” Rupert protested.

“I think I do,” she tightened her grip. “We’ve been through too much for me not to say the words.”

Ethan pulled her close and Rupert kissed her gently.

“We’re yours, my darling girl,” Ethan whispered in her ear.

“From the very first,” Rupert added.

They stood like that, in the middle of the room, holding each other as the shadows grew long. This was where she belonged and she had been crazy to think she could ever give them up.  



	6. At Last, My Lovely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone time.

Joyce snuggled in, not ready to wake up. She had spent the rest of the afternoon cuddled with her lovers on the couch, content just to be with them. So content that she had drifted off, feeling happy and truly safe for the first time in months. All was right with the world.

But something wasn’t right. It took a moment, but she soon realized that she was curled up on the couch under her grandmother’s afghan, alone. Both Rupert and Ethan had slipped away while she slept. Why hadn’t they woken her if they were planning on leaving?

Starting to get upset, she sat up and took in the dark room. Night had come on while she slept. There was just the muted glow of the streetlights and a dim glow by the stairs. Dim and flickering. Joyce blinked. No, not her eyes playing tricks. Getting off the couch, she walked over and discovered that the light came from a pair of tea lights placed opposite each other on every other step leading up to the second floor.

A slow smile spread across her lips, displacing all ill feeling. She took her time ascending the stairs, watching her shadow flicker and shift with the movement of the flames. The small candles continued down the hallway, illuminating a path to her bedroom. Reaching her door, she pushed it open cautiously, revealing by degrees a sight that took her breath away as she entered.

“Oh my,” she whispered, transfixed by the soft warmth of a dozen and more candles casting a sensual red-orange light around her room.

A careful hand swept her hair to the side as lips placed tiny, worshipful kisses along her neck. She heard the faint click of her door closing while another hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her gently back against the solid body behind her.

“So beautiful,” a rich baritone caressed her with its cadence as much with the movement of the lips that spoke it.

“Amazing,” Ethan agreed as he stepped before her, cupping her right cheek as he drew her in for a shallow, sensual kiss. Joyce responded in kind, relaxing into the kiss of one lover and the embrace of the other.

“How did you manage to pull this together?” she asked in awe when Ethan withdrew slightly.

“Dawn is quite resourceful in a pinch,” Rupert answered.

That gave her pause. “Dawn, where is she?”

“Shh,” Ethan soothed. “Safely away, staying the night with Tara and Willow.”

“And Buffy will be away until tomorrow morning,” Rupert said.

“Just us,” she smiled, feeling incredibly light.

“Just us,” they echoed, hands coasting easily over her body.

Turning so her back now pressed against Ethan, Joyce captured Rupert’s mouth in an easy kiss.

“Need to feel you,” she pleaded with both of her lovers, who wore only robes while she remained fully dressed. Rupert in blue; Ethan in green.

And they complied, working together unhurriedly to remove one garment followed by another until she stood between them in a simple set of ivory lace-edged satin bra and panties.

“Enchanting girl,” Ethan murmured as he eased one strap over her left shoulder, replacing it a moment later with his lips.

On her right, Rupert did the same, punctuating his words with feather light kisses, “Sensual. Captivating. Unforgettable.”

More words followed as they moved lower, but meaning was lost to sensation. Her bra fell, and still they continued on. Breast, stomach, hips. Her underwear was slid down and away. They rose, robes falling away, finecoarsesmoothroughsofthard pressing close, overwhelming, enveloping skin to skin to skin.

Pressed between Rupert and Ethan, Joyce had no desire to move. This was where she belonged. It had only been three days since they were last together, but after the estrangement of the past few months, any time apart was too long.

Soothing murmurs and soft caresses lulled her further, pushing the last few days from her mind.

“I thought you’d left,” she said quietly, recognizing too late how needy the comment sounded.

“We’re still here,” Ethan pulled her tighter against him.

Rupert smiled slightly, “I believe you’re stuck with us.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever manage,” she sighed happily, wrapping one arm back around Ethan behind her and the other around Rupert’s neck to bring him down for a teasing kiss. “And while I could stand here forever, I do have a very nice bed that you seem to have taken the trouble to turn down and everything.”

Untangling herself from their embrace, Joyce grabbed Rupert’s hand and then Ethan’s and guided them to the bed. She didn’t release her hold until they had joined her on the bed. They lay on either side, propping themselves up to look down at her.

“Make love to me?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

They blinked and then smiled slow disarming smiles. Joyce was struck once again by how incredibly similar and different Rupert and Ethan were from each other. Contrasts and complements woven together by years of history.

“Please?”

And she could talk no more, as first Rupert then Ethan captured her mouth with theirs then moved down to her throat. So gentle in intent but not always in touch. A slight nip or increase of pressure set her nerves tingling in anticipation followed by a gentle lave of tongue or quick peppering of kisses that quieted and stimulated at the same time.

Ethan was the first whose fingers gently teased apart her labia, skating in easy, maddening circles before slipping inside. One then two fingers skillfully explored her.

Joyce arched into the touch, needing him deeper. She was dimly aware of Rupert suckling with restrained determination at her left breast. If they kept this up she’d peak quickly, but that wasn’t what she wanted. Not this time.

“Stop,” she pleaded regretfully. “Not like this.”

And they did stop, looking at her with concern.

“Joyce . . .” Rupert studied her.

“I need you to be closer,” she explained.

Ethan nodded and rolled away to reach into her nightstand, while Rupert moved until he lay face to face with her.

“Anything you want is yours,” he said seriously.

“How did I get so lucky?” she traced the lines across his forehead.

“You aren’t the lucky one,” Ethan corrected, kissing her shoulder.

Joyce craned her neck to fix his gaze, “Yes, I am.”

“I should know better than to argue with you, shouldn’t I?” he grinned in return.

Further argument lost when Rupert eased her leg up to rest on his hip, opening her up to both he and Ethan. Taking his cue, Ethan set about making her ready to accept him.

Once Ethan was buried completely, her muscles stretched to accommodated him, Rupert slipped into her quim with no resistance. At last, Joyce felt complete, both of her lovers resting inside her. But only for so long.

Joyce gave herself over to sensation; the slow, steady rhythm of her lovers’ alternating thrusts and the slide of passion slick skin against her own sensitized flesh drove everything but the moment from her thoughts. Inside, outside, all around. There was no beginning and no end. One was the other was the other. She felt like she was drowning, but drowning was salvation. And the farther she went, the deeper she wanted to go.

Ethan and Rupert and Rupert and Ethan. One drove her to the other and the other back again.

They spoke to her as they moved. Indistinct, impassioned ramblings, nonsense, soothing background noise lulling her, comforting her . . . she lost herself in the sounds, drawn along by tenor woven with baritone. Seductive and soothing and—

“God, I love you so much,” Rupert gasped, shuddering near climax as he thrust deep inside.

Ethan’s hand grazed lightly down her arm until he reached her hand, fingers interlacing with hers. “Love you, my darling, darling girl.”

And Joyce lay there frozen in the moment, caught on the precipice as her lovers’ declarations echoed in her ears. An eternity spent in disbelief, not quite accepting.

Rupert’s thumb came up to brush away the tears she wasn’t aware that she had.

“Shh, it’s over now,” he hushed, eyes holding hers, looking deep. “No more tears.”

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “I don’t know—”

Ethan’s grip tightened and he nuzzled against her ear. “No sorry. No regret. We’ve been through too much.”

“Too much,” she breathed as they moved within her, never hesitating.

“We’re not leaving you, Joyce,” Rupert assured her, picking up his pace, and Ethan responded in kind, meeting and moving beyond.

“Here to stay,” he said.

It became incomprehensible once more as her focus narrowed down to where they where joined. Ethan behind and Rupert before. Joined to her, with her, through her.

“Oh god!” she cried as everything grew dark and far away before exploding to blind brilliance as she came.

“Joyce,” echoed in her ears as her lovers followed after.

 

 

Sated and content, Joyce lay ensconced between Rupert and Ethan, held close in a tangle of limbs. If there was a heaven, she hoped it was something like this, where she was kept warm by her lovers as the candlelight made shadows dance on the walls. She didn’t think there was a time she had felt more at peace. And considering how the day had started out, that was saying a lot.

She spoke without realizing it. “It seems silly now, thinking how frightened I was.”

“By Hank?” Ethan queried, his voice sleepy.

“No, by how I felt,” she bit her lip, mulling it over. “And it took Hank to get me past that fear.”

“Of how you felt about us?” Rupert studied her intently.

Joyce nodded. “I’ve known for awhile now, but I didn’t want to admit it. Love has never been an easy thing for me, even before Hank. I think because it makes it too real,” she hesitated, not sure that she wanted to go on. But if for no other reason than her own sake, she needed to explain to them. “If it’s real then . . . it can end.”

“And you can get hurt,” Ethan said, sitting up and resting his arms on his bent knees. After considering the far wall for a moment, he turned and looked at her and Rupert. “Why do you think I disappeared for weeks on end? And always tried to slip out before you woke up?”

“You mean aside from saving your own skin?” Rupert grinned with a hint of Ripper dancing in his eyes, effectively breaking the sober mood that had fallen.

“Yes, aside from saving my own skin,” he rolled his eyes. “Tell me, Ripper, do you ever get tired of stating the obvious?”

“And here I thought you two had grown out of this phase,” Joyce said, trying to sound put upon.

“What phase is that, my dear?” Ethan asked.

“The one in which you two always end up bickering like two old women whenever you disagree,” she smiled in spite of herself. “But I guess it’s a sign that things are back to normal.”

“As normal as they can be,” Ethan amended.

“So, I suppose we found hearts and flowers after all, didn’t we?” Rupert said with forced lightness, not quite looking at Joyce.

They all grew silent at that. And why did it make her suddenly very sad? It wasn’t exactly hearts and flowers what they had, but it was something deep and meaningful. These were two men who had proven time and time again how much they loved her and were there for her. Maybe it was because a part of her still was afraid that in spite of all they had been through, someday, something would eventually tear them apart.

“Joyce?” Ethan asked with concern as Rupert gently touched her face with silent worry.

“Just started thinking too much,” she pushed the thoughts away. “Distract me?”

As they had done before, as they always seemed to know how to do, they both reached for her, hands and lips and soft, honeyed words driving all cares from her mind. But this time was different.

This time it was with love.  



End file.
